


Be Careful Making Wishes in the Dark

by Heart_of_a_Dragon



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Chains, Non-Sexual Bondage, Playing with the senses, shock collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:21:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_of_a_Dragon/pseuds/Heart_of_a_Dragon
Summary: Dark is a known manipulator, but he had to learn at some point. This is a look into one of those “sessions”.





	Be Careful Making Wishes in the Dark

You wake up only to find you're chained to the ceiling. You call out for help, but no one responds. You wait for a long time, wondering how long you will be trapped down here. The room is an odd mix of warm and cold. The air and the cuffs around your wrists are just warm enough to ward off the chill of the concrete floor and metal chain holding you up. It's a surprise when you brush against the cold chain, because the cuffs around your wrists are a neutral temperature, but the chain has a biting chill like it was stored in a freezer. You look around, but the most you can make out are some metal supports spaced around you. There are two painfully bright lights on either side of you, and they wash out the rest of the open room in a blanket of darkness. Even the ceiling is high enough that you can't make out what the chain is connected to. 

A heavy silence fills the air. You call out a second time with no response. You try to flex your arms, but your shoulders have begun to stiffen from being held in the same position for hours. Your toes only just reach the floor so you can't move around very easily. You manage to move in a small circle though. Unfortunately, pushing further causes you to overreach and you fall swinging back and forth without proper grip to stop. 

There. A click? The silence weighs on you, heavy and deafening on your ears. You go still, lungs locked as you listen for a hint of sound. You hear the buzz of the lights and the quiet chime of the chain as it rattles, but no other sound greets you. Your eyes slip shut as you focus. Nothing happens, and you begin to wonder if you imagined it? It was such a soft sound, you can't really say exactly what it might have come from. Suddenly the hair stands up on the back of your neck, and you whirl around in a rush of clanging links as the chain erupts in noise. Without proper grip, your sudden turn sets you swinging, twisting, and twirling and the lights blur the room for a brief instant. You can't tell if there's someone in the distance or if it's it just shadows playing tricks on you. The swings slows down and the ringings fades until the room is just as it was before: quiet but not silent, dark but not unlit, open but not empty. You close your eyes and focus on breathing, but then there are footsteps way too close. 

Eyes flung open, there stands a man half in, half out of the shadows surrounding you. He's dressed up in a crisp dark suit with a white button up and coal tie to complete the ensemble. He stops just far enough the light doesn't completely reach his face, and his head is tilted down so you can't see his eyes. What you can see is short stubble lining a neutral mouth, and dark, short hair that curls around his face like it's caressing him. His skin isn't quite visible, the shadows giving it a gray pallor that must be a trick of the light. 

His presence is a shock. A litany of ‘how’s, ‘who’s, and ‘why’s flutter through you as the situation takes its toll. Your breathing goes soft and shallow as you feel the iron bands of stress constrict around your lungs. Something about this man scares you in a primal way you don't understand, and that fear leaves you nearly helpless in the wake of his presence. 

“Oh dear, we have met with a terrible fate, haven’t we?”

The rich baritone echoes in the room and in your head like decadent chocolate dripping over your skin in warm waves. 

“I'd like your assistance in a matter of curiosity I've had. You see, I've noticed that certain individuals are sensitive to sounds or sensations that heighten their perception of events.”

He straightens up and begins walking just on the fringe of the light. His eyes are dark enough that the light washes them out like nearly everything into a dark shadow. The dual shadows cast by the lights twist and jump around him as he moves. 

“I will be subjecting you to a series of… well, tests is such a harsh word, but I will be checking your responses to each stimulus. Depending on your responses, we will continue from there.”

The words he speaks terrify and exhilarate you in equal measure. Just what kind of twisted experiments is he planning?!? You hardly dare to look at him more than necessary, but when you look up he was already out of sight. You turn to look behind and only see a shadow as he slips warm hands around your neck. A sudden fear slips out as a quiet whine, but he withdraws his hands to fasten a type of collar around you. 

“Ahh, so nervous. You should relax, this won't be nearly as fun if you don’t.”

Your head whips back and forth to try and see him, but with your arms still chained above you the action is mostly useless. Still, a shadow catches the edge of your sight, and your eyes roll wildly as you give him a wide-eyed look of sheer disbelief and rampant fear. 

_His mouth tugs to one side as he gives a 'tsk’. The fear is an interesting and obvious reaction to the stimulus thus far, but it's beginning to interfere with the next datum. Fortunately, time is of no relevance and the order of events need not be fixed. He'd rather not alter the restraints just yet though. Alternate methods will hopefully suffice to soothe the subject._

The stranger approaches from one side, face illuminated but also heavily shadowed by the light directly behind him. You watch his polished black shoes approach, breathing harsher with each step. You're nearly gasping when he stops just in front of you. Hands come up to gently cradle your face. You close your eyes and hide in the illusion of safety you draw from the soft and warm touch. You wait and wait for something to happen, but he just continues to calmly breathe while stroking your face. The sound and motions are soothing enough that you can't help but relax in the gentle ministrations. 

Once you are suitably calmed and your breathing drops to a healthy rhythm, he draws away. You watch him, wary of his intentions. His words offer no comfort, only madness. Conversely, his actions speak of some care, as if he is as least distantly aware of the human need for comfort. To what purpose does it serve to both scare you and seduce you? 

“Why?" 

Your voice comes out soft but doesn't shake - the benefit of not saying much. 

“Humans are such fascinating creatures, so aware and yet so oblivious at the same time. You are all caught somewhere between intellect and instinct, and each one of you is balanced a little differently. I simply desire to know how to tell where that boundary is, and how hard I can push it.” 

His words are so smooth and gentle, but there is just enough of an edge in his words to unnerve. It's like staring at a dog or wolf and not knowing how aggressive it is. Too much caution makes you a target. Too much courage makes you a threat. Only a fine balance between them will see you safe. At least, safe to a relative degree.  
Suddenly, you realize that you forgot something. Something was different, something was off, something was- 

“Now, let's begin with Level One.”

You flinch as the shock is triggered, though more out of surprise than anything else. Right. Now you realize with grim satisfaction that you had forgotten the collar around your neck. How nice of him to remind you. At least the first one is only just enough to be felt.

“Level Two.”

There’s little warning for the next one. This time you flinch from the shock itself, like someone hit you with static charge right in the neck. It’s mild though, and he releases the button soon enough that there’s nothing more to react to. A look shows his posture is nothing but calm, steady, and relaxed. 

“Level Three.”

It doesn’t hurt, but it definitely tingles a good bit. He hold the button just a bit longer this time, drawing it out. The ticklish shocks are just enough to make you start squirming. You start giggling right as he cuts it off. You can’t help the grin creeping across your face anymore than you could help the laughs. You pant a bit tickles always made you breathless. You peak a look at him, giddy from the tingles. However, his expression is enough to take the edge of a grin off your face. He isn’t laughing or smiling, a bemused eyebrow raised on one side. 

“Level Four.”

This time it was too much. You cry out as the shock stabs into your nerves, no longer teasing them but brutally attacking them. You thrash for the infinitely long moment he holds the trigger. Even after he lets go, you twitch and shake in the ghostly sensations where your nerves are still firing with the electricity. As your shakes and nerves settle down, you realize that you've been panting and whining like a dog that's been hit. 

You quiet, opening your eyes to watch and listen as his soft footsteps approach. Even watching him does not prepare you for his touch regardless if it is soft and warm. The contact to your still sensitive nerves provokes a flinch. Still, he presses his hand just under your jaw, gently stroking the side opposite the prongs of the collar. What little of you is still aware screams of manipulation and conditioning, however your abused nerves can't help but lean into the soft comfort. 

You glance up when he hums thoughtfully, but you quickly look away. Revising your earlier assessment, you decide he is the wild wolf and you are the domestic dog. He is just similar enough to cause some recognition, some yearning for comfort and familiarity. However, there is a feral sense about him, something so foreign and sharp you can’t pinpoint what it is, but it unnerves you all the same. 

“You are one of my most quiet subjects. So far, you only cry out when you need to. You avoid excess noise, unlike some subjects that prattled and begged from the point they first became conscious.”

His hand slowly falls still. It's still gently pressed against your neck, a soft and warm point of contact. Just as the touch began to get uncomfortable, he pulls it away. Except not quite.

There was a brief moment where his touch was present, but the hand had left your skin. The feeling chills you, goosebumps racing over your skin. Your breathe stills for just an instant. You catch a quick knowing smile on his lips before he relaxes to a bemused expression. You firmly look away without moving your head. After avoiding his gaze he catches your chin, forcing you to look up and accidentally catch his eyes. His eyes seem to freeze you in place like before when me makes a soft noise. 

“Yes, I think you will be an excellent study in cases that lie just outside the norm.”

With that parting remark, he releases you and turns away. He calmly departs, each step returning him to the shadows he emerged from. 

\---

_Near the door to the vast room, the captor stops beside another man facing the subject behind him._

_“I do not believe I requested your presence or your meddling, Host.”_

_The Host scoffs quietly and sneers."You have found such an interesting subject, and the poor thing looked so lost I thought I might throw them a bone.”_

_The dark figure grips his cane with white knuckles as his jaw grows tense. He turns just enough to grab the other’s collar and pull him close with a quiet snarl. “Refrain from messing with my studies, or you’ll find yourself relying on your muses for more than just sight to narrate.”_

**Author's Note:**

> _And so the stage falls back into silence._


End file.
